Drabbles of a Blue Bird and his Bat
by Cee-CeetheHedgie
Summary: Chapter 1: Dick had always been some sort of a night owl… just never this kind. "There was no way that he could return to Gotham as Dick Grayson - it would have complicated matters even more than they were for everyone. So, with little choice left at such short notice, he turned to his personal stalker and asked him for help."


Summary: Dick had always been some sort of a night owl… just never this kind.

"There was no way that he could return to Gotham as Dick Grayson - it would have complicated matters even more than they  
were for everyone. So, with little choice left at such short notice, he turned to his personal stalker and asked him for  
help."

This fic was written quite a while ago and has been cross-posted from my tumblr account.

 **Warnings: Spoilers about Forever Evil. This is a slightly-in-the-future!batverse fic, as well as being a kind of AU fic in**  
 **which Damian has came back to life, and it is also a fix-it fic for Injustice: Gods Amongst Us to a degree. Some slash**  
 **between Bruce and Dick.**

 **Also, I may or may not have fudged, butchered and destroyed some of the timelines/ canon plot details because I am**  
 **relatively new to the fandom and only found out about a month ago that there are, in fact, more than one or two Robins.**  
 **Please forgive me for possibly ruining Batman for you with this fic.**

Dick Grayson hated his costume.

It was bulky and heavy and pinched him in uncomfortable places when he ever so much as shivered. It was well ventilated, despite the amount of material and armour and whatnot that made up his new attire, which in turn meant that it was ill- suited for Gotham's harsh and unforgiving winter. It did not resemble his old Nightwing outfit in any way, shape or form. At least that outfit had lightweight protection that still gave him the freedom to move and perform stunts.

He was now beginning to wonder why he had impulsively accepted this particular mantle. It was one that he hated, one that Bruce hated (despite his refusal to admit it out loud) and one that the Justice League and all of his old friends would surely hate if, and when, they finally caught wind of it.

But he couldn't turn back time now. Even though it was never a good idea to begin with, it was necessary in order to save his family. There was no way that he could return to Gotham as Dick Grayson - it would have complicated matters even more than they were for everyone.

He didn't have any effective disguises either - something told him that the homeless man disguise that he had used on one of his first Spyral missions would not have sufficed when he stopped one of those freaky alien-robot-monkey things from crushing Red Robin to death with a few exploding batarangs.

The blue dress probably wouldn't have worked either. Although, he must admit that it would've been amusing if Bruce had to explain to Tim that the muscular and effusive woman that was full of grace who had saved him from his doom was actually his older brother in a dress. His formerly dead brother, at that.

Hmmm, it would have also had been fun to see Bruce's reaction to his… ahem, feminine side. Little Bruce, in particular.

His costume needed to be unrecognisable. It also needed to conceal his identity thoroughly whilst showing enough that Batman would recognise him and not deem him a threat. Weapons and gadgets were also required, but unavailable to him considering how he had been completely cut off from his old means of acquiring the necessary equipment.

So, with little choice left at such short notice, he turned to his personal stalker and asked him for help. Owlman, unsurprisingly, had leapt at the chance.

The Talon costume that he was wearing now had the bulky armour plates that Owlman's own costume had, as the nutcase did have some feelings left and did not wish to lose him to a bullet. Understandable, if his past was similar to Bruce's. His legs were covered up as well as everywhere else on his body aside from the lower half of his face, at Dick's request. If Thomas Jr. had had his way, Dick would be wrapped in bubble wrap and stored away for safekeeping.

The cowl was irritating, but better than a full on helmet like Jason's. At least that way, Bruce was able to recognise him from the way he smirked at his ex/past-present-and-forever-mentor as he used his Owlgrapple (he assumed that was what they were called) to disappear from the scene once Dick had deemed the day was saved.

"You've always had bad taste in clothes."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Nice to see you too, Bruce." He almost stopped himself from calling the Bat by his real name. Almost, but not quite. This was more of a personal matter than business.

Dick turned to see narrowed eyes behind white lenses glaring at him from the dark shadows of the rooftop. Grinning, he backflipped off the gargoyle and flipped one, two, three times to land at Batman's feet. He righted himself quickly, ignoring how the metal plates grated against his skin as he moved. When Batman spoke first, he could hear the meaning behind the venom-laced words. He replied in turn with his own hidden messages.

"Why?" _I thought you hated it. The way he tried to take you from me, like you were a possession that had been stolen from him._

"To save you. And Tim… and the others, of course." _You're right. I do hate it, and the way that this uniform feels more like a leash than protection. But I had little choice. I was desperate._

"We would've been fine. You have just complicated matters." _They've figured it out. Jason's worried that you've turned out like him, Damian's even more angry than before, and Tim's hurt emotionally. I don't know what to do any more._

"Yeah, you probably would be. I mean, Tim might be a little bit on the dead side, or possibly in a hospital bed, Jason would be more screwed up than ever, and Damian even more so, but you would have been just fine." _I know you Bruce. You have a back-up plan or improvisation for every possible scenario. That's why I trust you so much. That's why we're all still alive._

The Dark Knight sighed. It was heavy with weariness, fatigue that had built up over the years that shouldn't belong to a man Bruce Wayne's age. That shouldn't even belong to a man Alfred's age.

"Damian hates me. That's why he quit being Robin when he came back from - you know, that place. He hates that I didn't try hard enough to save you that night, even though he wasn't around to see just how damn hard that I tried. I suppose that I'm still proud of him, despite it all." _He's really good at being Nightwing now. Never as good as you were, and he never will be, but he's trying. He's trying to live up to your legacy, despite being so young._

"Stop angsting around, Bruce. Dami still loves you, he's just confused. He might even blame himself even though he wasn't - as you put it - around at the time. That's just a trait that runs in the blood, it seems." _I've seen him, and I think he's great. And so are you, Bruce, but you can't see it. Neither of you can._

Batman visibly bristled at that. After a few tense seconds, he let his shoulders droop, and slowly removed his cowl. A great wave of nostalgia hit Dick then, seeing the man he loved the most again after what seemed like years of being apart on uneasy terms without the mask he often hid behind. Quietly and quickly, he returned the gesture and removed his own.

"Bruce, stop blaming yourself, or I swear by the Dinky Donuts that I brought with me to share that I will hug you 'til even the batboys and Babs aren't jealous anymore." _Problems will work themselves out, I promise. Owlman, my so-called-death, the lies and the truth. They'll all be fixed like we fixed Spyral. Like we will fix us._

Bruce looked up at him, actually looked him in the eye. Not at his new, God-forsaken costume. Not at the Dinky Donuts in Dick's outstretched hand. Only at those ocean blue eyes that he'd happily drown in every single day if he could, even through the storms that electrified the aqua orbs with anger, even through the droughts that made them seem tired and lifeless, and even through the days when the water levels rose and spilled themselves over smooth cheeks that still held the flush of youth.

Slowly, quickly, softly and harshly, Dick brushed his lips against Bruce's.

"Things will be okay, B."

Bruce gently took a sugary doughnut from the offered box, his hand deliberately brushing against Dick's.

 _Okay._


End file.
